


Somethings

by HippyChick1964



Category: Janto - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippyChick1964/pseuds/HippyChick1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place after "Miracle Day".  It's a year later and Jack is still lost.  Gwen has invited him to visit her, Rhys, Anwen, and the new baby.  He gets past Cardiff easily but once at the Williams' new suburban home in Swansea, he is confronted by someone who is out to kill him and who may actually succeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

**I walk along the city street,**

**You use to walk along with me**

**And every step I take recalls**

**How much in love we use to be**

**Oh how can I forget you**

**When there is always something there to remind me**

**Always something there to remind me**

  * **Song by Dionne Warwick**



 

Jack Harkness was tired of America, especially L.A. – the clubs were filled with too many women with fake boobs and super sweetened booze.  So, when he got an Instagram of Anwen trying to give her baby brother a bottle, he decided to finally take Gwen and Rhys up on their long-standing offer to visit their new home in Swansea, an hour from Cardiff.  If he drove the M4 fast enough, he could avoid seeing the Hub and all the memories that came with it.  As he packed his duffle bag with a few shirts, pants, and odds and ins then looked around the rank motel he’d called “home” for the past year, he wondered if he’d ever return.  Then, walking out the door, he answered his own question – Bad thing about being immortal reason number 329: you tend to see the same places over and over again.  He chuckled at his own joke (no one else was around to laugh after all) and headed to the front desk to drop off his room key for the last this go around.  Ms. Hobbs, the slightly plump middle-aged woman behind the desk asked hopefully, “Coming back?”

“Not likely anytime soon, hon,” Jack tossed out.  He stopped himself from heading directly to the door, turned around, and walked back to the front desk.  Ms. Hobbs had been kind to him since he’d moved in a few months after what the Institute folk were calling the “Miracle Day”.  When he’d arrived, he was emotionally battered, often looking worse than he did during his moments of mortality.  She would come by every once and while with her “mother’s chicken soup” and great stories of her days as a dancer in Vegas.  Some of those stories were funny, others sad, but they were always entertaining.  To hear her tell it, she had met, danced for, partied with or screwed “half of Hollywood” and whoever she hadn’t “weren’t worth being bothered with”.  Jack believed her – from picture album alone, she was once a “milk chocolate beauty” that drugs slowly ruined.  Luckily, before she spent it all away on men and cocaine, she got clean and bought the motel – “I know, it’s a dump but it’s my dump,” she’d always say. 

“Where’re headed?” she asked.

“Swansea.  It’s in the UK,” he answered.  “Some friends of mine have been asking me to visit.”  He thought for a moment, then asked, “Hey, why don’t you come with me.  My friends have a new baby.”

“To England? Pshaw!” she lied.  “I don’t have any use for those snooty folks.  Anyway, who’s gonna watch my place?” 

Jack suspected she knew he wasn’t coming back and their relationship wouldn’t fit in where life took him next.  She was probably right. “I’m going to miss you Minnie,” he said using her Christian name. 

She noticed the tear in his eye but she didn’t want him to know how much it meant to her.  “Ah, you’re young and cute!  You’ll tag someone soon and forget all about me.”

Jack grabbed her about the shoulder and pulled her close for a big kiss and hug.  Then he said, “Someone once said I’d forget about him too and I haven’t.  That’s the problem.  I never forget.” 

He turned on his heels and left.   If he bothered, he would have seen how what he said took ten years off that woman’s face.

*********************************

Jack’s travel to the Williams’ was a huge success by his accord.  He arrived without being stopped by the local constabulary and successfully avoided seeing anything connected to the Hub or Torchwood.  He wasn’t so fortunate when he arrived at the house.  He pulled into the driveway and saw two parked cars – he immediately realized he’d been ambushed.   One car was clearly U.N.I.T. issued while the other was a black SUV.   He got out of his modest rental and was besieged by Martha Jones-Smith and her husband Mickey.

“Jack!” she said hugging him close.  “It is so good to see you.”

Mickey came up and shook his hand, “Wow mate!  It has been a while.  We’ve missed you.”  Mickey added, “I know we’ve been off the radar, traveling with the Doctor, you know.  I’m really sorry we missed Ianto’s funeral.”  Jack hoped that Mickey didn’t see him flinch.  “Gwen told us all about what happened.”

“Mickey!” Martha nudged her husband, as if he’d made a social forepaw at some fancy cocktail party.  “You’ll never guess whose here,” she redirected.

“Rabbi Aliyah?” Jack was less than thrilled at seeing his old Time Agency teacher.  If she was here, it was because Gwen was worried about his mental health.  “Is Sarah with her?” he asked Martha.

“Yes and you’ll never guess.  She five months pregnant!”

“Ah marvelous,” responded Jack – Sarah was Aliyah’s partner.   The two of them had been together since Aliyah’s husband died in America’s 911 and had been the family’s bodyguard before that time, she resigned from a special forces unit.  “Is she doing well?”

“Geeze, I’ve never seen such a fit pregnant woman!” Mickey answered.  “I pity the aliens trying coming through the Tel Aviv rift.”

They entered the house.  It was much more suburban than he’d imagine.  But since Rhys had convinced Gwen to leave Torchwood aside after she became pregnant again, Jack figured that she was due for something settled like this.  It was large too, easily three or four bedrooms which made Jack wonder how many children the two were planning on.  He saw Gwen down the long hallway at the kitchen doorway holding a giggling baby who looked to be about four months old.  Rhys was standing behind her with Anwen on his shoulders.  She had to be three or so now, Jack thought.  Everyone laughing – a real Kodak moment.

A familiar voice from behind him softly said, “You’ve always been a sucker for babies, Harkness.”  It was the Aliyah.

“Did you use your telepathic powers to determine that?”

Aliyah came in front of him and, standing on her toes, kissed his cheek.  She looked the same as the last time he saw her for she was also an immortal – however, she had obtained her’s honestly.  Some people from her planet, Jershun Prime, had immortality as a recessive gene.   Over the century or so that they’d know each other, she had tried to be a friend and mentor, always there when he needed her, even if he didn’t want her.  “You wound me, Jack.  Just wound me.”

“I’m sure you’ll heal,” he grinned, letting her know he wasn’t too upset about seeing her.  “So, I hear Sarah’s pregnant.  Congrats.  Is she excited?”

“In her usual quiet way,” Aliyah answered.  “I brought her here in part to force her to slow down.  The doctors really wanted her on bedrest.”

“Things not going well?”

She looked around to make sure Sarah was not in earshot before said in a hushed voice, “This is our third attempt.”

“She should stop hating on me – use that energy toward being pregnant!”

“Oh, Jack.”  Aliyah shook her head, her dreads wiggled like they were in agreement with her.  She took his hand.  “How are you?”

“Again, I ask what does your telepathy say?  I mean why have such powers if you don’t use them all the time?”

She shook her head some more and gave him a concerned look.  “Gwen told me about what happened in the States.  You took on too much tragedy back to back.”  She rubbed his hand as if doing so would bring him strength.  “Maybe being here amongst friends will help some, eh?”

He gave her hand back.  “I doubt it.”  He realized how harsh that sounded.  “I’m sorry, I feel a bit ah, . . . “

“Ambushed, yes I understand, “she said.  She took his hand again, but more firmly this time. 

He noticed how her brown skin contrasted against his pale fingers.  She seemed like she was going to say something else when Gwen came up with the children. 

Gwen looked good – content as only happy family people can.  He was happy for her and, yes, Aliyah was right, more than a bit jealous.  While she and even Rhys hugged him and introduced him as “the Uncle Jack we told you about”, he couldn’t suppress a memory fighting its way into his consciousness.  It was one night he and Ianto went to Ianto’s flat instead of returning to Hub after one of their weekly Weevil hunts.   _Fuck_ , Jack thought to himself.   _Here it goes again_!

“Where have you got me lodged, Gwen?” Jack asked abruptly.

Initially stunned, Gwen stepped back a bit but then realized that Jack was having a flashback.  He had been having them for some years now and that gaunt, ashy look on his face was a tell-tale sign.  “Oi, guys!  Let’s not crowd the man – long flight and all.  You must be tired, have jet lag.”  She nodded at Aliyah, who clearly recognized the signs as well.  “Come on, I’ll show you the room we fixed for you.”  Gwen took him to the attic that was nicely redone as a guest room.  “You’ve always loved the tops of buildings.  Sorry but this is the highest you’re going to get around here!”

He dropped the duffle bag on the full-size bed.  “It looks great, Gwen,” he said.  “Thanks, really.”

Gwen gave him a big, long hug.  “It’s good to see you Jack.  We were kinda worried.”

He pulled himself away. “Who me?  I’m fine, always in all ways!” he lied.

Gwen let it pass.  “I’ll leave you to yourself for a while.  The grown up bathroom is downstairs to the right.  We’re having tea around 5:30 but if you’re not ready, I’m sure the others would understand.”

“Thanks Gwen.”

She paused, wondering if there was anything else she could say that would make things better but knowing there wasn’t.  “Jack, really, it is good to see you.  All of us have missed you.”  Before he could come up with another emotive lie, she left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Jack, flopped on the bed, struggling to find a way to stave off the oncoming flashback.  He hadn’t had one in a while but, he reckoned, coming here was likely to bring at least one or two.  He had found the best way to deal with them, if he couldn’t stop it ahead of time, was to follow it through – fighting them, he found led to endless, fruitless suicide attempts – each more morally lethal than the previous.  He only stopped when, after a particularly nasty bout, he drunk Skyped Aliyah.  She listened to his moans and crying for hours until he admitted what he had been doing.  She then reminded him of how similar his behavior was to a cutter, someone who slice at their skin, sometimes severely, just to feel something or as a way to punish themselves.

“What are you punishing yourself for Jack?” she asked.

“How would you like that list, alphabetical or numerical by order of importance?” he slurred. 

“Start wherever you’d like.”

Jack took it as a challenge, “Alright then.”  With the anger of an adolescent getting back at a parent, he plunged into the list, starting with losing his brother.   But after confessing a few transgressions, the whole thing lost its luster. 

Aliyah sighed and looked at him through the Internet with eyes so piercing, she might as well have been actually sitting in the room.  “Harkness, this isn’t about your need to confess, at least not to confess to me.  It’s about the regret that you didn’t confess to him - that you missed the opportunity to share your sadness with someone you only now realize would not only have been willing to listen but would have still loved you afterwards.”

There is nothing worse than having a psychic mentor who dual doctorate was in Talmudic scholarship and intergalactic psychology, thought Jack. 

That night Aliyah taught him a couple of meditations for managing his rageful fits and flashbacks – a way to let the memories roll over without killing him.  It didn’t work all the time -  he would have to catch things before he was flooded by emotions.  She must have told Gwen, considering how quickly Gwen rushed him to this guest room.  Those two were always conspiring to help him. 

This particular technique was good when he could tell the memory was of good times.  Mentally press “play” and let it roll like some art house film, like something that happening to someone else:

_Telling Ianto, one late Friday afternoon, once the others had left for the weekend, that they were going for Weevil hunt was a ruse.  Ianto had been avoiding Jack, ignoring Jack for weeks now and Jack was wound tight.  Jack was surprised when Ianto acquiesced, half expecting the young man would find some way to back out, particularly considering how things always turned out at the end of the evening.  This night was even more surprising – there had been no Weevil sighting for the last three weeks, not that that every stopped them before._

_The two drove around in silence for about an hour before Ianto_ said, _as if giving up the pretense, “I’ve got some lamb at my flat that I can defrost.”  Jack made a sharp U-turn, nearly running over a mother with a tram._

_Jack played it smart – instead of ravaging Ianto all the way up the stairs to his flat (once scandalizing Ianto downstairs landlady by asking if she wanted to join), he simply followed Ianto up and offered to help Ianto chop onions._

_“Are you deliberately trying to fuck with me Jack?” responded Ianto as he took off his coat and shoes and pointed Jack to where he should store his on a nearby rack._

_Normally, Jack would violate Ianto’s OCD, neat-freak house rules but not this time.  After putting things in their place, he went to the entertainment center. “Chopin or Haydn?”_

_“Handel is already_ cued _.”_

_Jack pressed the power button.  Then, he grabbed the bottle of scotch from an inside pocket of his coat – an 18-year old Glenlivet, Ianto’s favorite.  Jack grabbed two double shot glasses from the china cabinet and went into the kitchen._

_Jack put everything on the cooking island, opened the scotch and poured a generous in both glasses.  Ianto looked over from the sink where he was starting to prepare the lamb.  “Should I leave this for another time and just order fish-n-chips?” Ianto asked sarcastically._

_Jack was initially taken aback by the harshness of Ianto’s tone.  “Could you remind me how I have been an ass this time?”_

_Ianto dropped the lamb in the sink in disgust.  “Really?”  Ianto yanked off the rubber gloves he was wearing.  If he was a Black girl, his head would have been bobbing, “You have to be kidding me?”  He sucked in air in the room before saying then let it all out.  “Am I just some creature you fuck when convenient to you?  If that’s the case, you know, you don’t have to ply me with expensive liquor.  I’m sure you don’t do that to the other silly cows you’re screwing!”_

_“You’re my special silly cow,” Jack said simply._

_That stunned_ Ianto, _slowed his anger but not completely.  “You know.  I am a human being . . . .” from that point everything Ianto said was muffled._

_But Jack’s heart was rising to his mouth.  He didn’t know how to apologize so he just grabbed a ranting Ianto and kissed him harshly on the lips.  And once Jack could feel Ianto’s body loosen, Jack moved his kisses to Ianto’s neck.  Once Jack figured Ianto was ready to hear it, he whispered, “What can I do to make you happy right now?”_

_About twenty-two things moved across Ianto Jones forehead, like a BBC news crawl.  But he settled on one question.  “Am I your boyfriend?”_

_Jack stepped back, which broke his grip and made Ianto smile.  Match point, Ianto Jones - Jack hadn’t expected that one.  But if he wanted to play that game, Jack had the comeback.  “Yes,” Jack said plainly._

_Bad idea.  “Okay, then let’s set some ground rules here,” responded a newly confident Ianto Jones and he set on a grocery list of “dos and_ don’ts _” that boiled down to one theme, this was going to be an exclusive relationship._

 

Jack found he didn’t mind this idea so he let Ianto run through his list of demands while they cooked the lamb dinner.  And after eating, they fucked until the early morning when Ianto insisted on getting up to go to the market for fresh eggs for breakfast.

Suddenly, a car backfired, disrupting Jack’s meditation.  His eyes shot open and his mind forced him to go look out the window.  He couldn’t find the source of the noise but across the street he noted a lone figure – a skinny young man who stared at a pocket watch, then put it back in his pocket.  The young man looked up at the window, right in Jack’s face in a stare that, at that distance, said one thing.

**I’m going to kill you.**

That was the first time since America that Jack thought he could actually die and it wasn’t a good feeling.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

_Keep looking through the window pane_

_Just trying to see through the pouring rain_

_It's hearing your name, hearing your name_

_I never really felt quite the same, since I've lost what I had to gain_

_No one to blame, no one to blame_

_Seems to me, can't turn back the hands of time_

_Oh it seems to me, can't turn back the hands of time_

-    “Groove Amanda” by Jars of Clay

 

Jack didn’t sleep much.  He didn’t need to and he hated dreaming.  Ianto used to chastise him for it.  “It’s the way our brains clean out the junk that builds up.”  Jack assumed then his brain would require a demolition squad.  But this time, rain rapping gently against the window pane, jet lag, and what was clearly emotional exhaustion were playing tricks on him – “I mean really Harkness, Ianto standing outside in a leather jacket, jeans, and smoking?” he said to himself.  It was definitely a result of the flashback – that or wishful thinking.  He lay back down on the bed and let his mind drift away.  It was rather peaceful and for a few hours, he actually slept.

When Gwen tapped lightly on the door, his eyes opened abruptly.  “Yes!  Time for tea?”

“Jack.”  Her face was pale and her voice quivered some.  “Jack, someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?  Who other that you all know I’m here?”  He sat up and started readjusting his clothes and putting his shoes on.  “It’s the Institute, isn’t it?  The bastards tracked me down.  Well, I’ll tell them!  I’m done.  I don’t want anything to do with them and their crap!  They don’t have a hold on me anymore.”

He started to storm indignantly out of the room but Gwen stopped him.  “Jack,” she insisted.  “It’s not the Institute.”

He recognized the grim look she could get when she was genuinely worried.   He gripped her by the shoulders like he would back in the old days when he wanted her attention.  “What is it then?”

She took one of his hands, kissed it and answered, “You’d better come downstairs to the kitchen with me, okay?”

Jack Harkness walked deliberately downstairs.  He saw the distressed looks from everyone as he passed them.  Each of them had seen their fair share of ghoulish creatures, between working with U.N.I.T., Torchwood, or traveling with the Doctor.  So Jack couldn’t imagine how what he was about see was any worse.  Even Aliyah, who was older than all of them put together had a distressed continence.  “Whatever this is, it’s gotta be bad if she is horrified.” He steeled himself anyway, reinforced that “Captain” label like any military man put on his battle equipment.

As he came around from the bottom of the stairs, he saw the bright sunlight piercing through the windows, fighting against the oncoming evening.  The rays were bulleting through the windows, seemingly pushing aside Gwen’s pretty yellow curtains.  The man he saw early was seated alone at the kitchen table.  Rhys, keeping guard, leaned against the sink on the other side of the room, the opposite of the seated man.  Jack who was being guarded and from whom.

Jack first noticed the young man’s hands, both tattooed, and wrapped around an ornate cup from a set Jack recognized –  Gwen and Rhys’ wedding gift.  The jacket was draped neatly on the chair across from him.  Likely Gwen had taken the leather from the stranger and checked for weapons and none was found, thus, it was still nearby.    The brown and navy blue plaid shirt over a white tee shirt and dark jeans were quite a contrast to a rather expensive coppered colored Rolex watch.  Jack recognized the watch too.  He had given it to Ianto as a birthday present.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Jack asked.

The young man lucked up.  His eyes were the same pretty blue but the hair was redder and slightly curly.  The face was shaped the same but angrier, sullener but still that same face that had been haunting Jack for years now.  “You’re Jack, Jack Harkness, right?” the young man asked. 

He sounded like him too and that was upsetting Jack even more.  “I don’t know who you are but . . . “ Rhys jumped in to stop Jack from attacking the young man.

“Hold on, Jack,” Rhys said.

Jack growled at Rhys but Rhys was prepared – Gwen had warned him that Jack was unlikely to understand, likely to be in shock.

Jack heard Aliyah’s voice behind him.  “Jack, we confirmed this with Rhiannon.”  She came from behind Jack and stood next to the young man.  “This is Gareth Lloyd.  He’s Ianto’s younger brother.”

“Ianto would have told me if he had a brother,” Jack responded.

It was Gwen who spoke up this time, “Ianto didn’t know.  He came to Rhiannon’s about two months ago.  It’s taken him this long to track us down.”

Jack shook himself loose from Rhys.  “Again, what do you want?”

The young man stood up.  He was stocky, looked like he had done a great deal of physical labor in his short life.  His Welsh accent was thicker than Ianto’s.  “I am their ½ brother.  Our Da had an affair but when my mum got pregnant, he would have nothing to do with her, denied he even knew her.  When I was born, we moved to Swansea.  She died a while back, cancer.  I found the information about Ianto and Rhiannon in her papers.  I came to find my kin.”

“I’m not your kin.”

“Rhiannon said, well, she said you and Ianto were close.”

“Yeah, close enough to get him killed.” Jack nervously adjusted his clothes, tugged at his shirt collar.  “Sorry kid, I don’t have anything for you.”

Gareth took off the watch, walked over and showed it to Jack.  “Rhiannon said she found this with Ianto’s effects.  It’s engraved, ‘ _Rwyf wedi marw aros i chi bob dydd_ \- I have died every day waiting for you – Jack’.”

Jack turned to Gwen.  “You knew about this?  You lured me here for this?” he yelled.

“Jack you won’t have come otherwise.”

“You could have told him everything.  You knew Ianto just as much as I did.”

“That’s not fair Harkness!” Rhys interjected.  “Damn it man, you two were inseparable.  We’ve all told him what we know.  It’s your turn now.  We weren’t there when Ianto died.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Williams,” Gareth interrupted.  “I have everything I need to know.” He put on his jacket and the watch.  “Thank you very much, Mrs. Williams.  You have been quite kind.” He walked past everyone and out the front door.

All eyes fell on Jack.  Eventually, one by one everyone left the area until only Aliyah was left.  She was furious at Jack’s cruelty and selfishness.  She grabbed his arm and said harshly, “You know, an indigenous Navajo medicine man once told me, ‘A brave man dies but once, but a coward dies many times’.”

The bright light illuminating the room earlier left with her.

*******************************

Jack went back to his guest room in the attic and sulked.  An hour later, he heard noise from the bottom of the stairs.  The others were gathering to go out.  Someone, likely Gwen, said something like, “Don’t you think we should get him . . . Not leave him up there alone?”.   However, the consensus was to leave him there.  So they did, some mumbling that he was “changed” and “not the man he was before”.  Jack supposed they were right.  He paced the room.  If it had been L.A., he’d be getting drunk and driving the desert or hillside too fast.  If he was off-world, on some pleasure planet or intergalactic sex ship, he’d be popping between one orgy or BDSM dungeon to another.  In another life, he’d rob banks or con rich old ladies out of their estates.  None of that satisfied him now – “Been there, done that, got the tee shirt and dropped it into the thrift bin,” he said to himself sadly.

He did feel bad though.  Ianto would have told him he needed to at least apologize to the group.  Ianto was his conscious, always trying to pull the best out of him.  Maybe a better homage to his lover’s memory would be good behavior – well, it was, at least, novel.  So Jack grabbed his coat.  He thought he’d overheard the group was going to a place he passed before he arrived at Gwen’s house.  If he hurried, he’d catch them before dessert.  He’d put on a cheery, cocky disposition – that always, at least, got a laugh, even out of Rhys.  Later he’d chat Aliyah.  She never got too mad at him, always forgave him after one of her lectures.  As for Sarah, well, she never would like him anyway.  He dashed down the stairs but looked back at the domesticity of the Cooper-Williams’ home.  Aliyah once said, when she was nagging him, that he and Ianto could have this kind of life – she said that Ianto was different than his previous partners because “he forgives you, loves you, no matter your transgressions, as long as you are honest”.  Jack left the house – no sense in dreaming the impossible dream.

The evening breeze was cleansing.  He practiced his grand entrance and rehearsed apologetic refrains, trying to choose the most efficient.  His mood was improving too.  “Maybe I’ll contact Rhiannon.  Find out where the boy lives and meet him,” thought Jack.  “I could, at least, tell him how brave his brother was – about how he survived Canary Wharf, tricked me into giving Gwen that key, or when Owen scared the shit out of him and he threw the coffee tray.”  Jack became determined more than ever to do the right thing.

It was too late though.  As he saw the restaurant in the distance and the group still standing in line to get in, he said to himself, “Great!  I can do all the apologizing stuff before going inside.  There is a chance for a good meal too!”  Jack wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.  He noted his stomach rumbling before feeling the force of the metal object cut across the top of his head and the nasty smelling chemical forced up his nose.  Then things went all black.

When he awoke fully, his hands and legs were securely tied to a wooden chair and the sackcloth was removed.  He did recall coming to a few times previous with a sack on his head and a feeling that he was in some sort of vehicle moving over a dirt road.  Now he was in some dark room, likely a small, empty warehouse outside of town.  There was an incandescent light bulb directly over him and another illuminating a stool with books stacked on it.  He had to squint but he eventually recognized those books – at least the top three were Ianto’s diaries.

“Okay now!  I’ve been kidnapped better than this before, you know!” Jack shouted.  The space was definitely empty as his voice echoed well throughout.  “You didn’t just leave me here, did you?  I am starving.  I was just going to meet my friends for a meal.  Can’t we do this over a juicy steak?”

“Ianto wrote you had jokes, lots of jokes,” a voice in the darkness said.

“Yeah, and he laughed at them too.”  Jack squinted again, certain he could see a figure in the darkness.  “I’ll ask you again, young man what do you want from me?  Stories about your brother?  Do you want to know what he was like?  If he was a good agent, friend, lover?  What?”

“I want to know why you killed him.”

“I didn’t kill him.  Not really.” Jack’s guilt was slipping through in his voice.  “I had no idea the 456 would do that.  They’d never done that before.  I had no idea.  I begged them to stop.”  He was shaking now, straining against the tape.

Gareth came from into the light with a chair just like the one Jack was tied to.  His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up revealing even more tattoos – looked like they were done by an Irezumi artist, an illegal style usually found on Yakuza, the Japanese mafia.  Clearly this Jones had inherited a darker side of the family genes.  “I could never get someone to give me one of those tats,” Jack said.

“You can’t tattoo or brand.  You’d heal before the ink has a chance to set.”

“How do you know that?”

Gareth tapped the top of the book stack, “I have every diary Ianto ever filled.  He started writing in one in 3rd year.  I probably know my brother better than he knew himself.”

“How did you get those, young man?”

“I’m the same age as Ianto,” Gareth faced the back of his chair toward Jack then sat down.  His voice steady, cool with few ups or downs.  “That’s the rub, the reason my Da rejected my Mum.  He’d pushed my Mum to the side when he found out his wife was pregnant.  He’d always hoped they’d reconcile.  Ianto and I are 5 weeks apart.  We even share the same birth sign, though, from reading these, I believe he had a different moon rising.”

“I’ll ask you again, what do you want with me?”

“Or what?  Or you will do what, Harkness, eh?”  Jack railed against the tape.  “I wouldn’t bother.  The polymer in that particular type of tape is a personal invention of mine.  Gives the term _industrial strength_ a new meaning - made me millions.”  Gareth reached back and grabbed a thermos.  He poured what smelled like tea into the cap, drank some then filled it again and offered it to Jack.  “Glengettie?  You look parched.”

Jack nodded and Gareth brought it over to him.  “I’d do better if my hands were loose.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gareth responded while helping Jack drink.  “Did you know, Glengettie has been a favorite in Wales since 1952.  It is a stronger blend of tea originally brewed for miners and is specially designed to complement the soft Welsh waters.”

Jack nodded when he was done.  “You seem to know about tea like Ianto knew about coffee.”

“Yes, in his diaries, he spoke extensively about it,” said Gareth while replacing the cap.  Jack thought it odd that Gareth didn’t rinse it out first after Jack had used it – something Ianto would have done.  “Did you know he started drinking coffee to spite our Da?”

“No, but then again all he would say is that his dad was abusive.”

“Verbally only.  He was too much of a coward to ever really hit anyone, except once.”

“When Ianto said he wanted to go to school, be a librarian,” Jack remembered.

“Yes.  Da came home drunk from the locale and saw the acceptance papers on the kitchen table, kicked off at Ianto’s mum ‘cuz she’d signed ‘em.  The argument escalated and he took a swing at her.  Ianto flattened him out cold.”

“He left home the next morning.  Never saw his father again and his parents divorced shortly thereafter,” Jack finished.

“Yes,” Gareth said.  “What Ianto didn’t know is that Da came to me at my Mum’s house.  I never liked books but loved to read, wanted to see places so I was headed to the Navy.  He came in acting like he could set up house, like the last 17 years had been all sunshine and roses.  Mum got a couple of coins off of him – figured she deserved at least that – then put him out.”

“He’s dead now.”

Gareth shrugged.  Then he dragged a metal lunchbox into the light, opened it and took out a sandwich.  He took out one-half from the baggy and offered the other half to Jack. “Egg salad?”

Jack shook his head no.  “Okay, Ancestry.com has been simply fascinating but this has to do with me how?”

Gareth held up a finger, indicating he needed to finish chewing before responding.  “Harkness, . . .”

“Jack, or Captain, please?” Jack interrupted.

“Right now you’re captain of nothing and no one.  We aren’t friends, so _Jack_ is out of the question.  And your birth in the 51st Century has not been verified as far I am concerned, so _Mister_ is also out of the question.”

“Just trying to be pleasant.”

“I think the term is _cheeky_ , actually,” Gareth said nonchalantly.

“Whatever, my question still stands.  Why am I here?” Jack was getting tired of this game.

Gareth took in a large inhale then said, “I’ll rephrase since you’re obviously not getting the picture here.  Ostensibly, I want some answers about my brother’s death.  When we only children find out we actually have siblings, there is a natural, almost primitive need to find and bond with those individuals.  And when same said former only children find out that their newly discovered siblings have died an early death, the question as to why becomes extremely compelling.”

“I told you what happened!”

“Ah, no.  You gave excuses that you think explain what happened.  However, I have read Ianto’s diaries and I suspect there was something more here.”

“And when you find out that elusive something, you’ll do what?”

Gareth smiled and leaned slightly forward in the chair after taking another bite.  “Why, Harkness, I am going to kill you.”

“You must not have read those diaries too thoroughly otherwise you’d know I can’t die.”

Gareth waited to finish the remainder of his half sandwich, resealed the other and carefully replaced it in the lunchbox.  He picked up the box and thermos, then said in parting, “Oh Harkness, there are all sorts of ways for a carbon-based entity to die.  One just has to have the right science.”

Gareth walked out of sight.  Jack heard a click and both light bulbs went out.  “Wait!”  Jack called out.  “Wait!  Where are you going?  You can’t just leave me here in the dark.”  Jack heard a door open, felt a light, outside breeze come and go then a clapping sound of a latch and knew leaving Jack alone was exactly what Gareth Lloyd intended on doing.

*****************************************

The Torchwood fellowship returned to the Cooper-Williams home a few hours later.  Gwen, Martha, and Aliyah decided to go up to the attic and see if there was any use talking some sense into Jack.  Initially, when they found the room empty, Martha thought he’d left.  “Coward! she exclaimed.

Gwen was doubtful, “His rental is still parked outside.  He wouldn’t leave on foot when he could drive away.”

Aliyah agreed but for a different reason.  “He’s left his Webley and that isn’t like him.”  She touched the device and Jack’s duffle bag.  Using her Psychometry powers, Aliyah discerned, “He was feeling remorseful.  It is likely he went looking for us to apologize.”

“Could be he’s still looking,” said Gwen.

“Yes, let’s give him some time to come back,” said Aliyah as she ushered the others out of the room and downstairs.

Aliyah went to the room she was sharing with Sarah.  Sarah, who was laying on the bed with swollen ankles and less than happy disposition.  “Has the good Captain run off again?” she asked.

“No,” answered Aliyah, more willing to speak out of earshot of the others, “he left to find us, to apologize but I fear he ended up somewhere less desirable than a restaurant.”

“Did you get a vision?”

“No, but it doesn’t take psychic powers to know who he is with.”  Aliyah sat next to her partner and began rubbing Sarah’s feet, nearly absent-mindedly.

“Do you get the sense he is in trouble?” Sarah asked, sympathetic to Aliyah’s care for Jack more than concerned for Jack himself.

Aliyah tentatively shook her head.  “When we agreed with Rhiannon and the others to this ruse, I was skeptical it would help Jack.  The Institute wants him back and he has been better off with them than without.  I figured the work in America would bring him back, do some healing but the only thing it did was dredge up more, different bad memories.  It was a setback, a major one if you ask me.”

“And this plan?” Sarah offered her other foot.  “You think this could permanently send Harkness over the edge?  Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry honey,” Aliyah apologized.  “Gareth’s a tough one.  He’ll give Jack a good run for his money.”

“Ah, okay, now I’m confused.”  Sarah pushed Aliyah off her feet, choosing instead to get up and make a tub of hot Epson salts instead of trying to get an attentive massage from her wife.  “Are you worried about Gareth or Jack?”

“Both.  In vivo treatments are inherently dangerous for everyone involved.”

“Oh, I can say that’s going to be true when Harkness finds out you set him up,” Sarah shouted from over the sound of the bath tub water.

“He already knows he’s been set up.”

“Not to this extent though.”  Sarah came back out with a half full pan and put it on the floor by the edge of the bed.  “When are you going to tell the others the whole story?”

‘In a few minutes, otherwise Gwen will worry Rhys to death and he’ll send out a search party just to make her happy.”  Aliyah help Sarah get her socks off and roll up her pants legs.  “Let me just help the mother of my child get her feet situated.”

“It’s always nice to have a partner who’s done this before.”

“12 times, 3 different planets and four humanoid species, I’ll have you know!”  Aliyah kissed Sarah’s forehead then added, “But this one’s the best!”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Sure, I bet you say that to all your wives!”

“Only the ones with hurt feet.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

_It's the strangest feeling_

_Feeling this way for you_

_There's something in the way you move_

_Something in the way you move_

_With you I'm never healing_

_It's heartache through and through_

_There's something in the way you move_

_Don't know what it is you do_

_Not one bone in your body good enough for me_

_But this heart is open, bloodstain on my sleeve_

_When our eyes meet, I can only see the end_

_But tonight I'm here yours again_

-    "Something in The Way You Move"     Sung by Ellie Goulding

 

It would go on and on again for days – Gareth would leave Jack alone, tied to the chair and in the dark.  Then Gareth would return – hand feed Jack a sandwich or cold chicken, allow him to drink out of a straw, and read from Ianto’s diary.  The passages were always incidents reflecting Jack’s selfishness, negligence, or absent-minded cruelty.  “My brother’s accounts of your behavior, Harkness, are quite detailed,” Gareth throughout once.

“Boorishly repetitive, actually,” snarled Jack.

“Perhaps because it happened just so often.”

After reading a passage or two, Gareth would slam the book shut and stare angrily at Jack, waiting for the sad, beaten man to say something in his own defense.  And once Jack screamed, sometimes cried in a pathetic explanation or an exhausted “for a hundredth time, I’m sorry” apology, Gareth would tie a cloth bag over Jack’s head, untie his legs and walk Jack to what smelled like an outhouse so Jack could relieve himself.  The first two or three times, Jack tried to escape but the young man had kept him somewhat unfed and slightly dehydrated, so Jack was quite weak and Gareth was able to recapture him with relative ease.  After what seemed like the fifth day, Stockholm Syndrome took over and Jack began to feel woozy, uncertain if he was hallucinating the whole thing.  It had gotten to the point where Gareth didn’t need to even keep Jack’s hands tied securely.  Once this ritual was done, Gareth would turn off two lights and leave Jack in the dark.  Jack knew nothing of night or day.  As far as Jack was concerned, he had been there for years.

One time, Gareth came in with a boisterous tone.  “And now we come to the pièce de résistance!”  He opened a diary book that Jack did not recognize.  Gareth cocked his head to the side.  Jack could make out his face more clearly under the single, hanging light bulb for some reason.  Gareth had a nice beard and mustache – made him look kinda dirty, like someone Jack would pick up one night at a local.  He had tried to convince Ianto to grow his but Jack’s young man would have none of it – “It’s unprofessional,” Ianto would say.

Then Jack’s head started to hurt.  “Thirsty,” was all he could get out.

Gareth squinted at him, seemingly in genuine concern.  He got the plastic bottle with the usual straw and walked over to let Jack sip.  “Not too fast or you’ll choke.”

Jack found it odd that someone hell bent on killing him would worry that he’d choke.  “I’ve never seen that diary book before.”

“Ah, you didn’t rummage all of Ianto’s private things?”  Gareth went to sit in his chair but this time, leaning against the back with his ankle resting on his knee.  “When the SUV was recovered, this was found in the back seat.  P.C. Davidson made sure Rhiannon got it.  It starts a week before Ianto died.”  Gareth dramatically flipped through a few pages.  “Ah, here it is, the good part.  My, another nasty roaw, how sad.  And who was to know that he would be dead just a few days later with his last memory of you, oh, how did he put it?”  Gareth pointed to the lines, “I just made a comment, a comment that we seemed like a proper couple and that other people could see it.  I was honored of that.  I was all ‘holding-hands-while-walking-gay-pride-and-yes this-is-my-boyfriend type of proud.  Why did he have to go and get all pissy about it?  And just a few days ago, . . . ..”  Gareth slammed the book closed, “Oops, he didn’t get a chance to finish that now did he?”

“For the hundredth time, I had no idea the 456 would poison him too.  They’d never . . .”

Abruptly, there was some type of buzzing sound.  Gareth got up and walked into the darkness.  Jack thought he made out a light from a mobile but, he couldn’t be sure.  When he returned to the light, Gareth seemed hurried and concerned.  “We will have to finish this later Harkness.  I will be back to feed and relieve you.”

Before Jack could get a word out, the young man was gone but this time, he’d forgotten to turn off the lights.  Torture survivors and criminals during extended stints in solitary confinement will tell you, the smallest changes in light will increase one’s sense of hope and freedom.  Gareth, in his haste, had also left the diary book on the chair.  Jack stared at it, and in doing so, he got a flashback of what happened before the incident Gareth read:

**Jack had been thinking about it for days.  Aliyah had encouraged it whenever she Skyped or emailed him.  Gwen had hinted that he and Ianto should “take things to the next level” – married couples are always pushing their friends to marry.  The Institute was even bugging him to cut costs or get more staff because so much Hub space was being unused now that Tosh and Owen were gone and Gwen and Rhys were looking for a family home.  Also, it was easier – how many times did they have to get dressed to go to the Hub before heading to a rift emergency.  Ianto coming to live with Jack at the Hub just made sense.**

**And on the weekends or when the rift activity was low or none existent, frankly it would be easier to convince Ianto to stay in bed and ignore errands and household chores.  On the other hand, Jack was apprehensive.  He hadn’t been in a real relationship in decades.  He was used to his freedom – his ability to screw whatever came along to tickle his fancies.  Relationships were complicated, a lot of work.  Committed, monogamous relationships took courage and steel – Jack wasn’t sure Ianto . . . . no, the truth was Jack wasn’t sure he could give Ianto the relationship Ianto deserved.**

**Jack was thinking about this on this particular afternoon when Ianto asked if he could go to the store for him.  “Gwen ducked out earlier, something about dinner with Rhys’ parents.  And I need one more 64GB flash drive. I used the last one.  I can’t leave this stuff downloading on its own – I’ve gotta be here if something screws up.  Please!” pleaded Ianto.**

**Jack didn’t have a problem with the walk to the software store, although it was beginning to rain.  He wanted to get away for a while.  He had to make up his mind if he was going to say something today or just put if off again.  “Sure.”**

**“Great!  I’ll see you when you get back,” Ianto said, then he returned to his updating project.**

**Jack took his time.  It was supposed to be another night of pizza, beer, and tellie.  “Maybe I should get a table at that new French restaurant”, thought Jack.  “No, no, just too over the top if you’re just asking someone to move in with you.  This isn’t the 60s after all!”  He got a few more blocks and several more ideas before he was struck by something in a jewelry shop window – two matching Men's 8.0mm Engraved Titanium with Sterling Silver Twist Inlay Wedding Bands.**

**An hour and a half later, Jack returned to the Hub with four flash drives, pizza, a bottle of Glenlivet, and two wedding rings.  He was walking on air and ready to ask Ianto to marry him – Aliyah would be so excited as planning and performing them were her favorite rabbinical task.  Gwen and Martha would plan the rehearsal dinner and honeymoon on some warm beach, likely Spain or France.**

**Jack came bouncing through the tourist entrance.  “Ianto!  Ianto!”  Everything was dark and he didn’t see him anywhere.  All Jack could see were the low screen lights of computers in rest mode.  He saw a note on Ianto’s station – “Jack, sorry I couldn’t wait.  I had enough room to finish with the drives I had.  Sister called – my nephew’s in the hospital.  Will call you later if I can.  Ianto.”**

**Jack sat on the couch and looked at the rings for a moment then stuck the boxes in an inner pocket of his coat.  “I’ll have time tomorrow, I guess,” he said trying to convince himself he’d still have the courage.**

 ***********************************

“This is going on too long,” said Gwen once Gareth arrived at her house.  “Aliyah, this is just plain cruel.”

“We’ve tried everything else,” Aliyah replied, although she was concerned as well that this plan of hers wasn’t going to work and could make things worse.  “It’s only been three days – it just seems longer.”

Rhys added, “Aren’t there U.N. high commissions against stuff like this?”

Sarah waddled into the kitchen, “Please, he’s in your garage tied to a chair by his guilt, shame and sadness.  Gareth said he could have escaped at least three times by now.  I could manage that situation in this condition.”  Gareth helped Sarah to a chair and pulled another over so she could elevate her sore feet.

Gwen was irritated with Sarah.  “You’ve never cared about him!”

“And you worry about him more than he needs to be worried about!”

Aliyah intervened, “Alright this is getting us nowhere.  Yes, Sarah has never been fond of Jack but for some of the same reasons he has found himself in this predicament.”  Aliyah squeezed her partner’s shoulder reassuringly.  “However, Gwen is right.  This may have gone on too long.”  She inhaled deeply, then offered, “I will take sole responsibility.  It was my idea after all.”

Gareth, looking much less menacing than when he first arrived, said, “Give me a little more time.  I think he’s about to make a turn.”

“Why?” asked Mickey.

Gareth smirked, “Reading those diaries, I got a pretty good idea what my brother saw in Jack Harkness and I’m starting to see pieces of that person now.  Another session and I think you’ll have your old Jack back, coat and all.”  Gareth picked up the coat and gently put it on his arm.

“Yeah, he may forgive us but he’s gonna be more than pissed at you,” said Martha.

Gareth sighed slightly, looking down at his arm.  “That will be too bad, won’t it?”

*****************************************

Gareth came back to a different Jack Harkness. He was sitting up straight, like a captured revolutionary ready to accept his fate – not a man tied to a chair.  It wasn’t the con man, galaxy time traveler, or Torchwood captain.  If it weren’t impossible, Gareth would have sworn lines had grown on Jack’s face, a little gray had been sprinkled through his hair.  This was no silly, irresponsible young man who got to make the same mistakes more times than one should be allowed.  This was a grown man – someone who accepted his foibles, taken responsibility for his regrets, and was no longer eaten by guilt or shame.  This was a man ready to make a second chance actually worth something. 

“That night, a day and night before the 456 madness started, I returned to the Hub intending to marry Ianto.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and he would have said yes, that I know.”

“You do?”  Gareth sat down for he didn’t want Jack to know that this new tone and confidence was intimidating him.  “Well, my brother was nothing if not a fool, at least, where love was concerned.”

“Maybe when you mature like him you’ll get the chance to love someone like he did,” sneered Jack.  “He saw into people’s souls.  That’s why he held out for Lisa, thought he could save her.  He thought the same of me – that he could save me, save me from myself.”  Jack bit back a tear of triumph, “You’re right, he deserved better but he wanted me.  He wanted this insufferable, narcissistic, bastard.  And I wanted him and I can prove it.”  Jack pointed to his coat - Gareth had brought in and placed over the stack of diaries.  “Look, look inside the lower right-hand pocket.  You’ll find proof of my intentions.”

“You mean these?” Gareth took the rings out of his front pants’ pocket and held them out on his palm.

Jack was beginning to figure things out.  “How did you know they were there?”

Gareth reached in his back pocket and pulled out a note.  “When Ianto rescued you after the government’s betrayal, he found these on the ground when he dropped you and your cell.  I gave them and this note to Rhiannon.”  Gareth opened the note and read, “I told you he was special!  If I don’t make it out of this.  I want you to give these back to him and tell him I said ‘Yes, I’ll marry you before the next time the world ends.’  He’ll understand.  Love, Ianto.”   Gareth looked at the encryption on the ring, “’My beloved is mine, and I am his’, in Welsh and Hebrew.  Impressive.”  Gareth had to wipe a wayward tear from his face. 

“I’ll have those back,” Jack had one hand on his lap, and the other reaching out. 

Gareth, with some reluctance, handed him the rings.  While reaching over, he noted Jack’s legs were also untied.  “I guess I need to talk to the manufacturer about that tape.”

“You loosened it the last time you were here.”  Jack pulled his chair over to Gareth and turned the back around to sit.  “There was no last diary, was there.”

“How did you know?”

Jack gave one of his classic side glance grins, “The one here doesn’t have a leather cover.  All of Ianto’s diaries had a leather cover.”  Jack grabbed the top book, shook its empty pages, and tossed it on the ground.  “Now, what is this all really about?”

“Your friends were very worried about you.”

“Are you really Ianto’s brother?”

Gareth started stacking up the diaries and putting them in a box.  He glanced another half sandwich and offered it to Jack.  Jack shook his head no, so Gareth took a bite.  “What do you think?”

Jack smiled – because if the guy looked any more like an even sexier Ianto, Jack would have to . . ..  “This reeks of Aliyah and she convinced Gwen.  They called Martha at the last minute.  The fellas went along with it because it was easier than telling those ladies no.  As for Sarah, well, she’s been wanting to torture me from the moment she laid eyes on me!”

“Sarah isn’t your biggest fan.”

“You think?” Jack joked.  “So what’s your excuse?”  There was something solicitous in that tone.

“That’s a fair question, I guess.”  Gareth reached down and passed the box of diaries to Jack.  “Everything in these wasn’t bad – most of it was good, very good.  My brother thought the world of you, admired you and loved you in ways that romance novelists have been trying to capture for a century.”  Gareth smiled shyly like he’d been caught wanting to do wrong.  “He saw the Jack Harkness that is sitting in front of me right now – the hero and the flawed man, the savior and the killer, the husband and the whore.  He saw all of you and wanted it all.  He didn’t want to change you.  He just wanted you to be honest with yourself about who you really are.”

Jack stood up and got closer to Gareth.  He looked at the man whose image reminded him of something so sweet, so precious and real.  Jack touched the young man’s face – ran his fingers across the beard, up to and around the ears, down the cheek, to the mustache.  Gareth’s lips parted ever so slightly which allowed Jack’s finger to fall into his lower lip.  Gareth let the finger caress his tongue and left it there for a moment before saying, “This isn’t a good idea.  You don’t know me.”

Jack quickly withdrew the finger and watched a slight look of disappointment flash across Gareth’s face.  “Have dinner with me then.”

“You’re crazy!”

“I have a history of crazy ideas.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

_These changing years_

_They add to your confusion_

_Oh and you need to hear the time_

_That told the truth_

_That there is something about you_

_Baby so right_

_Don't want to be without you_

_Baby tonight_

_Because there's something about you_

_Baby so right_

_I couldn't live without you_

_Baby tonight_

-    "Something About You" sung by Level 42

 

It was 6am on a Saturday.  Jack came into Gwen and Rhys’ back door to the kitchen.  He found Rabbi Aliyah sitting at the table, learned books and a tablet scattered around open and blinking.  Aliyah barely looked up and spoke as if she expected him.  “Gareth went home?”

“Yeah,” Jack said as he sat down.

“You slept with him?”

“We’re going to dinner later.”

Aliyah looked up at him and took her half glasses off.  “Before you screw him?  Oh my, you have changed.”

Jack smirked.

“Well, on a scale of 1 to 10, with one meaning not at all and 10 meaning piping hot, just how mad are you at me this time?”

“45.3.”

“Ah, then things are repairable,” she said putting her glasses back on.  She began to write something on a notebook but, seemingly changing her mind, she put it down.  “The holiday of Purim is coming up soon.  I am writing a sermon about it for a congregation I’m overseeing while their rabbi recovers from surgery.  Do you know Purim?”

Jack looked at her and shook his head.  He sat back in his chair, knowing better than to interrupt his mentor’s preaching.

“Purim, like most Jewish holidays, is a celebration of survival, this time by way of a young girl and her uncle, two seemingly insignificant people who save the Persian Jews from certain massacre.  What makes this Bible story unique is that G-d is never mentioned.”  She tapped a couple of times on the tablet but Jack couldn’t see what came up.  He inhaled, let the breath out slowly, as if in meditation – just like Aliyah had taught him at the Time Agency. 

Aliyah continued, “I was just reading our former Chief Rabbi’s remarks on the subject.”  She put on her glasses and read, “This, for me, is the ultimate statement of _hashgacha pratit_ , that wherever we are, sometimes Hashem is asking us to realize why He put us here, with these gifts, at this time, with these dangers, in this place.  _Hashgacha pratit_ is our fundamental belief that G-d never abandons us, the He puts us here with something to do.  Even in the worst hiding of G-d, if you listen hard enough, you can hear Him calling to us as individuals, saying _U’mi yodeia im l’et kazot higa’at lamalchut_? - Was is not for this very challenge that you are here in this place at this time?"  She looked up, making sure Jack was listening and when she was certain, she continued, “We must always ask ourselves, what does Hashem want of me in this place, at this time?  Because there is always something Hashem wants of us, and we don't have to be anyone special to have a sacred task.  When Hashem calls, may each of us have the courage to say _Hineini_ , here I am, Hashem, tell me what to do and I will do it.”*

“Are you saying that I am special, that this immortality, is something more than a curse?”

“It’s a curse alright but it is also a blessing.  You’ve been called for something, Jack.  I need you focused, sane, and relatively happy.”

“You mean the Institute does,” Jack said sarcastically.

“I mean this planet does!” Aliyah shouted.  “It may be fucked up, crazy, lacking self-control of any kind but you and I both know, this is the best this universe has to offer.   It has to survive, it has to get better and to do that, it needs time to grow.  The only way that is going to happen is if people like you are around to help.”

Jack sat for a moment and thought about what Aliyah said.  “I’m that important?”

“Sources seem to indicate such.”

“Nice!” smiled Jack.  He got up, headed for his guest room in the attic.  “Well, I need some beauty sleep.  Gotta a hot date tonight, you know.”

“And after that?”

“Heading back to Cardiff to get the band back together,” he said walking past her.  He stopped, briefly, and turned around then said, “By the way, Aliyah.  If you set me up like that again, I’ll kill you.”  He turned back around and left the room.

“Good luck with that!” she said to herself as she went back to her sermon writing.

***************************************

Everyone was downstairs when Jack came down, dressed and ready to go meet Gareth.  They gathered like by the front door.  Everyone, except Aliyah, had difficulty looking him in the eye but they all noticed that a new Jack Harkness was in front of them. 

“I’ll be contacting the Institute in the morning,” Jack announced after putting his duffle bag on the floor, “to start the rebuilding of the Hub.  There are still aliens to manage, new tech to acquire, and some such.”  He put his long coat on and ran his fingers through his hair, “I will need a team and you all are a good lot.  But you know the score and I would understand if you don’t want to come along.  You have families now and well, unlike me, the potential for death for you is very real and quite permanent.  If you don’t come, I’ll understand.  Otherwise, report to work on Wednesday, 8 am sharp.”  Jack turned around and headed to the front door.

“Wednesday? asked Mickey.  “In the middle of the week?”

Jack walked out, saying nothing.

“Where is he going?” asked Gwen.

“To a recruitment and talent acquisition meeting, “replied Aliyah.

“Ah, is that what they’re calling it these days?” laughed Gwen.

**************************************************************

_You never know when you're gonna meet someone_

_And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone_

_You're just walking around and suddenly_

_Everything that you thought that you knew about love is gone_

_You find out it's all been wrong_

_And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore_

_Cause they led me here to you_

-    “Start of Something Good” as sung by Daughtry

 

“I thought we were eating at this restaurant?” asked Jack as he followed Gareth away from the front of a new fine dining establishment.

“I can cook better than they can serve food,” Gareth said, handing Jack two grocery bags.  “Besides, the butcher had some great Wagyu rib eye.”

Jack chose not to indicate that he was “very, very hungry” and just followed Gareth silently for the next two short blocks.

It turned out to be his mother’s home and it was mostly packed and the “for sale” sign outside had a “sold” placard taped to it.  Inside were boxes of various sizes, closed and ready for movers and the thrift store of the local church.

“Where are you going after this?” asked Jack.

“Don’t know.”

They went in the kitchen.  “Can I help?” asked Jack.

“Are you kidding, Harkness?  Remember, I read my brother’s diaries and if memory serves me, there’s a story about you burning water!” Gareth laughed.  “No sir, I treasure my pots and pans like Ianto did his coffee appliances – Let’s not take this transformation of yours too far!”

“Okay, okay,” replied Jack.  “I’ll just sit on this stool over here and look cute.  Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We don’t mention Ianto again tonight, tomorrow, or anytime we’re alone in the future.”

Gareth stopped cleaning potatoes long enough to nod in agreement.

Jack asked, “So, who is Gareth Lloyd?  It feels like you know everything about me but I know very little about you.”

Throughout cooking and eating dinner, Gareth talked about his life – his days in the Navy mostly as well as his time in Japan and Korea.   Jack listened and asked questions – they laughed, occasionally fell silent, and overall had a good time.  After dessert was eaten, dishes were washed and placed in their proper boxes, and the 2nd bottle of wine was drained, it got to that point in a date where things could go one way or another.  There had been excuses to casually but briefly touch one another all night but now that a decision needed to be made, neither of them had the guts to make a move.

Jack started to get up.

Gareth asked, “Where are you going from here?”

Jack sat back down on the edge of the couch, hedging his bets.  “Back to Cardiff.  Back to Torchwood.  It seems I have a destiny.”

Gareth needed another moment to garner up his words.  “I’m not my brother.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re a man of action – your brother had never held a gun until he came to me.  You despise fashion – he was very proud of his well-tailored suits.  You love jazz – he loved classical.  You are Welsh tea – Ianto was Ethiopian coffee.”  Jack took in and out a cleansing breath, “I loved him, very much.  I have no plans to replace him.  However, he is gone and I’m ready to move on.”

“Sorry, I did agree not to bring him up.”

“Your concern is a valid one though.”  After another awkward moment, Jack suddenly had a question.  “You never mentioned having had any relationships.”

Gareth laugh.  “Are you kidding?  I was in the military after all.”  Then, he realized what Jack was really asking.  “There was someone – Adam.  But, he wasn’t out to his family and couldn’t face telling them.  My Mum had known since I was 14 and didn’t care.  I wasn’t going to live in hiding.”

Jack felt some relief in that, not starting a relationship with lies and obscurations.  “That’s good.”

“I think I would like to join Torchwood,” Gareth stated with a devious grin.  “Are there any particular requirements?”

“Well,” Jack returned the look, “Your military training would be helpful however those tattoos could be a problem.”

“Really?”

“Ah yes,” said Jack, “I believe there are some policies about extensive body tattooing and piercings.  Something about excessive body markings and all that.”

“Do you know how much is too much?”

“Well, I will have to check.  I believe it has something to do with where the body modifications are.”

“Oh, mmm.”  Gareth pulled off his black tee shirt revealing various Druid symbols up his right arm and shoulder, the word “Mum” in a heart on his left shoulder, Welsh proverbs in calligraphy on his back and pierced nipples with small hoops.

“Ah, my!  Well, this could be a problem,” Jack said coquettishly.  “I mean, who knows what those symbols mean?  And my Welsh isn’t what it used to be, so I must take time to translate those phrases.  Who knows?  They could be secret alien communiques.  And those nipple rings!  Gosh, you must set off airport alarms!”

“No, those don’t do it,” said Gareth as he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down.  “This, however, gets me stripped searched every time!”  His cock bobbed up and down due to a Prince Albert piercing with a 10-gauge, captive bead ring. 

Jack didn’t pay much attention to the tattoos on Gareth’s mid-thighs.  “That will need to be checked more closely, just to make sure it meets policy requirements and expectations.”

After pulling off his pants completely, Gareth took Jack’s hand and pulled him off the couch.  “Are those policies yours or the Institutes?”

Jack followed Gareth to the bedroom, pleasantly surprised that the bed was well-prepared for vigorous activity.  “I fear that I will have to get some new measuring tape, just to be sure.”

******************************************

 _A year and a half later . . . ._ .

Jack popped open the champagne.  “I welcome the opening of Torchwood Cardiff II!”  He filled the glasses for the attendees, his new team members.  Then, he walked over to a marble wall, partially covered by a large cloth.  He pulled a cord which made the cloth fall and revealed the names of all the people who had died previously, even Suzie.  “In dedication to fallen comrades, friends, and family.  Your names and deeds will never be forgotten.  Cheers!”  Everyone toasted and drained their glasses.  Gareth touched his brother’s name, the new white gold Alhambra wedding band brushing against the beveled lettering.

Jack came up to Gareth and kissed his forehead affectionately.  “He would appreciate this,” Gareth said.  “His name being here means he will never be forgotten by anyone.”

“No,” said a wistful Jack Harkness, “he will never be forgotten.”

 

References:

  * From quoted from Rabbi Johnathan Sacks from his piece “G-d’s Hidden Call – A thought about Purim: an edited transcript of a talk given by Rabbi Sacks to senior pupils at Yeshivat Or Chaim and Ulpanat Orot Bnei Akiva schools during a visit to Toronto; March 2016; The Office of Rabbi Sacks; <https://www.ou.org/torah/parsha-series/rabbi-sacks-on-parsha/#>?
  * For a list of the songs quoted in this story, go to Spotify and look for the playlist entitled “Somethings in Torchwood” – Pink Floyd’s Pigs (Three Different Kinds), although not used in this story, is a favorite of mine for sexual encounters in my stories and I always image that it’s the rhythm Jack prefers when fucking.




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